


Lay Me Down

by Anonymous



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Notions of Purity, Pandemics, Pining, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Over the years, Steven has both remained true to his faith and expanded his worldview. However, the process of learning can cause these two lines of thinking to conflict. Something stirs inside Steven that leads him to travel down an avenue that he's merely glimpsed at before.
Relationships: Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim
Kudos: 25
Collections: Anonymous





	Lay Me Down

It's far too warm in Steven's bedroom. He's turned on his rotating fan and stripped down to nothing but a light gray t-shirt and striped boxers. And yet as he lays on his bed on his back, staring at the ceiling and resting his hands on his stomach, his skin still simmers with heat. 

His eyes fall closed behind his glasses as his mind drifts to the memories of two days ago when Andrew, Adam, and he were filming another episode of Worth It. 

When he had first received an e-mail telling him they would even be able to film another season at all, even amidst the pandemic, he'd been overjoyed. His heart soared like a kite on the breeze and he smiled so wide that his cheeks began to hurt. 

But when he'd arrived on location to film their first episode, he'd nearly tripped over his feet when he remembered that he couldn't give Andrew a hug. But then Andrew had grinned at him so brightly, like the sun after a thousand dark winters, and it made something in Steven's chest _ache_. 

He wasn't sure if it was the agony of isolation during quarantine with no one to cuddle but Simba, or the limitations of pixelated video calls, but every time they filmed together lately, Steven felt like he was noticing things about Andrew that he hadn't before. 

Or maybe, that he hadn't allowed himself to notice before. 

Andrew had clearly upped his workout regimen, his arms sculpted and strong, the sleeves of his t-shirts having grown tight around his biceps. His hair was a little longer than normal, but still that familiar sandy blond and something in Steven yearned to touch it. The sound of Andrew's voice was like a sweet red wine, leaving Steven a bit dizzy after getting to hear it. Steven wondered what it would be like, to have Andrews arms wrapped around him, to let his fingers glide up the nape of Andrew's neck and sink into his hair, to have Andrew's voice rumbling in a low whisper against his ear...

Steven gasped, eyes widening in horror as he realized that he was hard. 

It wasn't the first time he'd ever had an erection. He'd had plenty of wet dreams growing up and for awhile he worried he had an abnormal amount based on his mothers reaction each time it happened. But nothing had scared and stung Steven with guilt more than the first (and last) time he'd been caught with a hand down his pants. 

He hadn't masturbated since. It wasn't like he didn't get hard now, or that he didn't get the urge now and then to touch himself down there. But every time he actually thought about going through with it, his stomach would slosh with a sour tightness and he would immediately do whatever he could to distract himself. 

Proverbs 16:27 Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.

And yet today, the urge felt completely overwhelming. His hands curled into fists against his stomach, and he trembled with need. He felt a bead of precome escape the tip of his cock and dampen his underwear. He knew he had to fight the urge. Masturbation was a sin, after all, and he wanted to keep himself pure until marriage. 

But his cock throbbed between his legs as he wondered what it would feel like for Andrew's hands to slide over his sides and down to his ass, squeezing Steven and drawing him flush against his torso. Steven bit his lip, trying to swallow the whine that threatened to escape. 

His skin felt even hotter somehow and his hands slipped beneath his t-shirt and onto his bare stomach. He whimpered at the feeling. It was _good_. It was _nice_. It was as if he was finally being touched. 

He slowly dragged his fingers up his torso, feelin goosebumps rise along his skin. 

This really didn't count as masturbation, as long as he didn't touch his dick, he reasoned. 

Steven let his legs fall open, and he imagined that it was Andrew's hands wandering over his chest, stroking softly across his skin. He wondered if Andrew would stay gentle, or if he'd get a little rough. Steven shakily pinched one of his nipples and his back arched off the bed as he pressed up into the feeling. He did the same with the other nipple before squeezing them both at the same time, and flicking them with his thumbnails. 

"Hnnng, f-fudge," he whispered under his breath. 

He slid his hands down to his thighs, imagining Andrew laying between them, Andrew's arms resting against them, his hands gripping Steven's hips to hold him still. 

God he hoped that Andrew would hold tightly, let his fingers press into the skin, leave marks to lick over later. He hoped that Andrew would kiss with those beautiful soft-looking lips over Steven's skin, anywhere and everywhere that he wanted, not leaving a single inch without a touch of his mouth. 

Steven writhed on the bed, one hand dipping to his inner thigh, the other sliding up his chest to pinch at one of his nipples again. 

Would Andrew ever want to pinch his nipples? What if instead of his fingers he pressed a hot, wet, kiss there instead and drew a nipple between his teeth and--

Steven cried out sharply, his whole body rising off the bed as he spilled hot white heat into his boxers. 

He panted softly, the hints of a whine lining every breath. 

Once he finally calmed, it hit him that even though he didn't touch his cock, he still came anyway. A lot. Everywhere. 

He felt shy from it, ashamed, and expected to feel that familiar sourness in his stomach. Instead, he felt them curl together in a heat that bubbled under his skin and moved through his veins, those negative feelings somehow _enhancing_ the pleasure he felt. 

He got out of bed, pulling off the sheets and yanking off his underwear, throwing everything into the wash. 

As he hopped into the shower, he began mumbling a familiar prayer under his breath.


End file.
